


When the body speaks

by Potix



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bodyswap, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-10 22:49:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1165510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potix/pseuds/Potix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My dear ConstanceBoniful gave me this prompt : "bodyswap ". So...here it is!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steve Moffat, Mark Gatiss own Sherlock and his realm. I just own my computer,my version of Openoffice, and my sick fantasies. English is not my native language, please forgive the mistakes and the typos.

That morning, the first thing Molly Hooper noticed, aside from the annoying light coming from the window, was a strange itchy sensation, that began on her neck and spread over her chin and cheeks, stopping just under her nose . She tried to scratch just under her pointy nose, but she found an unexpected obstacle: apparently her nose was a bit longer, and wider.

She turned around in her bed, the sheets still covering her body, and she found the second surprise of the day : someone else was sleeping next to her . In her bed . Someone else was sleeping in her bed . She could only see the upper portion of the body : long, brown hair were covering the backside, and she noted a mole on the left shoulder blade.

" Strange...I have the same mole on my shoulder...wait a minute, there's a woman in my bed !?" . How much did she drink last night ? She remembered clearly a dinner with John, Mary, Sherlock , Lestrade and his new girlfriend Susan . It looked too much like a triple date to her, and the sour expression on Sherlock's face told her that he had been forced to be there . Probably blackmailed by John, she thought, before drinking the first of many glasses of wine . At the end of the dinner she was a bit tipsy ( she might be a tiny pathologist, but she knew how to hold her alcohol ), and the gloomy consulting detective had decided to walk her home - probably only to avoid spending more time with the two happy couples . When they arrived at her flat, she had offered him some Moroccan tea her friend Adele had brought her last month...then, black out . She could not recollect when a third person - a woman - had arrived, or why she was sharing her bed with her...

Molly decided to be brave, and lifted the sheets that covered both her and the stranger, and instantly let it fall, not before a scream escaped her mouth . She didn't know what frightened her more : the fact that her voice was really deep and low, or that she was naked, like the woman beside her, or maybe...maybe the most disturbing thing was the fact that her body, was not hers . How could she be so sure ? Well, first of all, she had no boobs, but to make it up for the lack of breasts, she had an "appendage" ( she scolded herself, she was a doctor, after all ! She saw naked bodies every day, and obviously a large amount of those had a... _penis_ ) between her hairy legs that she was certain was not part of her... _initial equipment_.

Strangely her shriek was not loud enough to wake up the woman next to her . Molly left her bed and her bedroom stealthily and roamed around her living room, searching for clues . Her clothes were scattered on the floor, her bra was hanging on the lamp near her sofa, and one of her ballet flat was on the coffee table . She turned the corner and reached the entrance, where she finally found the other shoes...and a very familiar coat . It was inimitable, and unique, like its owner . If his coat was there, where was he ? And why was he still in her house ? Molly walked the hall pensively, and was still in deep thought when she suddenly found her face reflected in the mirror near her shoe rack . This time she didn't shrill: she promptly fainted.

* * *

When Molly woke up, the first thing she saw was her face. She seemed concerned, and a little worried. _" It's so strange...I'm sure I'm on the floor, but I can see my face in the mirror...since when do I have a mirror on the ceiling ?"_  she asked herself.

" Molly...how do you feel, Molly ? Are you ok ?". The pathologist nodded, before realizing that she had not opened her mouth, so where did her voice come from ? And why was she asking herself if she was okay ? Molly tried to stand up, but she felt still light-headed, and her head touched the floor with a loud - and hurtful -"thud".

" Would you please stop damaging my body ? It may be only a transport, but I'm quite partial of it ".

" Since when do I speak like this ?" Molly was sure she was the one speaking, but what came out from her mouth was strangely similar to Sherlock's voice...wait a minute, it was  _exactly_  Sherlock's voice ! Why was she speaking with  _his_  voice ? She took one look at her naked body, and there were still no boobs, instead her chest was broad, flat, and adorned of a light red hair in the middle...She heard her voice call her name again, her tone alarmed...and she fainted again . The last words she heard before losing consciousness were " Why does she insist into banging my head on her floor ?".

* * *

The second time she woke up - or was it the third time,she was utterly confused now- she was dressed . Nearly completely dressed, since there were two tiny, pale hand adjusting a buckle on her sartorial trousers...she sprang back and in a second she was on her feet. Molly remembered what she had seen in the mirror, and with a terrified whisper she asked " Who are you ? Wh- why are you in my body instead of me ? And why did I see Sherlock's face when I looked at myself in the mirror ?".

 

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steve Moffat, Mark Gatiss own Sherlock and his realm. I just own my computer,my version of Openoffice, and my sick fantasies. English is not my native language, please forgive the mistakes and the typos.

"Which question do you want me to answer first ?".

" All, all of them ! Oh my God, why is my voice sounding like that ? It's...it's unreal !".

" Molly, just use your brain - it's pretty obvious . You look like Sherlock Holmes, you sound like Sherlock Holmes...but you still think like Molly Hooper . We simply switched bodies, Molly . Even someone with a limited brain capacity like yours - don't excuse yourself, the size of your cranium is not something you can decide, you can try to improve how you use your brain though, maybe I will teach you some techniques later-".

" Sherlock ? Yo-you're in my body ! Why are you in my body ? How did it happen ?".

" Finally an interesting question . If I answer you, would you promise me that you would try not to faint again ? My skull is rather sensitive".

Molly noted how her own voice sounded strange, almost alien, to her, now that it was used by someone else . It was firm, full of authority . Whoever was inhabiting her body was self-confident, imperturbable, composed...In addition, the "squatter" had decided that putting some clothes on was unnecessary, and was wearing her sheets like a peplum. And her eyes...were her eyes always so bright, and cunning ? All the features suited Sherlock to a T, she must admit it...as far as bizarre it was .

" Is it really you, Sherlock ?".

"I thought we had already established that . I'm in your body, you are in mine - do keep up, Molly !".

The pathologist simply nodded, and observed her body sitting on her sofa. It was like having an extrasensory experience - hell, she was-no,  **they**  were having an extrasensory experience !

" Do you remember what I always repeat ? "Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains-".

"No matter how improbable, must be the truth. I know it by heart, Sherlock- it's your favourite sentence, along with all the ones you use to insult Anderson".

"Well" Molly could detect the irritation in him (or her, was it more correct ?) at the interruption, but she sensed also the slight satisfaction at her ability to quote him. "The short version is...that I'm cursed . More precisely, all the Holmes men are cursed. I've always believed it was just a childish legend, something my grandmother was telling us because she was a puritan, and slightly lunatic...but what we are experiencing right now is the proof that I was mistaken. Now, all we-".

" How ? How did we switch bodies ? I remember you coming with me here, and then we drank a cup of tea, and then nothing...it was the tea, wasn't it ?".

" Molly" the tone of his/her voice was patronising and patient , but Molly knew it was only an act: the body before her eyes was practically sprinting with frustration . "Take a look at this room: your clothes scattered all around, mine are on the way to your bedroom...we woke up naked. In the same bed ".

" Maybe we were both feeling very hot...".

" Molly. Look at the piece of plastic near your feet " . She obeyed, and found a bright red wrapper where Sherlock had told her . Square, it seemed hastily ripped...O _h my God, please, don't let it be...it can't be what I think it is..._

" Yes, Molly, it's a condom. I must add that I'm feeling a strange kind of soreness in  _your_  pelvic zone, that I presume it's one of the obvious effects  _your_  body experience usually after a night of vigorous... _exercise_  . We can take a look in the bedroom and find other pieces of evidence, if you want...".

" Is that the reason why you are...you know, you don't do...you're not- I mean, it's a bit of an inconvenience if it happens all the times you have... _intercourse_ , I understand now...". A laugh escaped her/his lips.

The expression on his/her face told Molly that he was not amused . " It doesn't happen all the times . It happens only once, when the Holmes men lose their...virginity" Sherlock concluded in a whisper, a blush blossoming on her/his face ( it was interesting looking at her body like that, now she knew how she looked every time Sherlock falsely flattered her...). Then the weight of what Sherlcok had said hit her . She had taken his...virginity ? She had sex with the man of her dreams, and she couldn't remember a thing ! Typical, those kind of things could only happen to her .

Molly had to ask him. It was utterly embarrassing, but maybe there was a possibility that he could..." Do you - do you remember anything about last night ?".

Sherlock hesitated only a second before answering, scanning his/her face for something...then confessed " No. I think it's because of that Moroccan tea we drank - we should bring a sample to St. Barts to analyze it, as soon as possible, and-".

" No ! We must find a way to switch back, Sherlock ! Be- because there's a way to reverse it, is there ? We can't remain like this- oh goodness, what if I need to go to the bathroom ? Please, tell me that there is a way..." she pleaded, and it sounded so strange to her hearing Sherlock's voice beg for something .

" Yes, unfortunately I don't know what it is . The good news it that I know someone who might know what we have to do..." her/his voice barely conceived the disgust in admitting that he needed help .

" Who ? Is someone I know ? We need to call him, or her, right now !".

" You know him. It's Mycroft ".

 

**Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now, the last chapter ! It contains my first Sherlolly smut, and I'm quite self-conscious about it...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steve Moffat, Mark Gatiss own Sherlock and his realm. I just own my computer,my version of Openoffice, and my sick fantasies. English is not my native language, please forgive the mistakes and the typos.

_The good news it that I know someone who might know what we have to do..." her/his voice barely conceived the disgust in admitting that he needed help ._

_" Who ? Is someone I know ? We need to call him, or her, right now !"_

_" You know him. It's Mycroft "_

* * *

Having been almost completely clothed by Sherlock when she was lying unconscious on the floor, Molly was ready to go out, the only thing missing the Belstaff,still on the coatrack . Instead Sherlock...well the consulting detective was currently inspecting her wardrobe, an expression of horror and disgust on his face, and dissing every pice of clothing she owned . Thankfully, she had already prepared a set of bra and panties on her bed, so he would be away from her lingerie's drawer...at least she hoped .

" Your taste in clothing is abysmal, Molly " Sherlock grimaced while examining a pair of khaki trousers, and tossed them back in the wardrobe,unceremoniously .

" So I've heard you say before..."

" Your childish fixation with fruit's and cat's design on your shirts and cardigans deserves a further examination..."  _and maybe a trip to a good shrink_ he added, but only in his mind, "but for now, I just need something devoid of cherries and feline in a suitable colour...like this !"

He pulled out the second-to-last dress she wanted to see in that moment - and for him to wear ( the last being the one she wore at the infamous Christmas party at Baker street, but fortunately it was hidden in a box under the bed) : a purple sleeveless cocktail dress that she had put in the wardrobe a very long time ago. It was everything she wasn't : refined, sexy, with those lacy panels tone-sur-tone on the shoulders, hips and partially on the back...very fitted, perfect on a body with more curves than hers...

"No. Not this one, Sherlock " she stated firmly .

" Why not ?"

" Because I said so - you're not going to wear that dress !"

" Why ? Tell me why, Molly, you're hiding the only stylish dress you own in the furthest corner of your wardrobe . It seems quite pricey, surely vintage...Valentino ? No...probably Emilio Pucci...Ah! I understand why it's so out of place - is it not yours, isn't it ? A gift...or something you inherited, probably from..."

Molly cut him off . "My mother . It was a gift from my father to my mother, the last one he gave her before he died . She never wore it, nor did I . I know you think it's stupid and silly, not using it and taking it hidden, like a keepsake, but-"

" I don't think it's stupid" he interrupted her . " I just don't understand why you insist in not wearing it - the colour would be perfect with your skin tone, and I presume this model will do wonders for your petite figure..." at that moment he dropped his/her voice,and added, in a conspiratorial tone " And now that I can take a closer look at you ,Molly, I would like to rectify a previous statement "

" Really ? About what ?" she asked, suddenly curious .

" Well...about your breast size - it's more than adequate, very proportionate to the rest of your body, which owns the right amount of curves, I must add ".

Molly would suspect he was flirting with her, if the situation were not crazy enough...but she quickly dismissed the thought as bizarre, and murmured an embarrassed " Thank you", that sounded even more strange when pronounced by Sherlock's voice. This reminded her that time was of the essence, and returned to the reason why they were both in front of her wardrobe . "Maybe we can find something more...to your liking, what do you think about this ? " . Thankfully, in the mess Sherlock was making, she found a black pencil skirt with a very discreet slit on the front,and a black tailleur blazer that she usually wore when she was required to attend an important meeting at St. Barts or a conference . Sherlock seemed satisfied, but his/her eyes lightened up when he found the perfect piece with which complete his/her clothing : a satin, sleeveless plum coloured blouse that she had bought a few weeks after seeing Sherlock wearing his Dolce and Gabbana purple shirt for the first time, and that she had never had the courage to wear. After having convinced him that choosing a pair of stilettos (another purchase she had almost forgotten) was not very wise since it was his first time wearing heels, and that her flat shoes were surely less stylish but more comfortable, they were finally ready to visit Mycroft .

* * *

The ride to Diogene's club was full of whispered instructions and impatient sighs . They had agreed that they had to try to act like the other as long as they can, in order to avoid embarrassing stares and questions ; but with Sherlock Holmes, often plans were changed without a warning. That's why the other members of the club witnessed an impetuous little woman heading towards Mycroft personal room, followed by a strangely self-conscious Sherlock Holmes .

The woman opened the door of Mycroft's office without waiting to be announced . " Mycroft, we need to talk. I don't care about your coup d'état or shadow cabinet : this is paramount "

" To what do I owe the pleasure of you barging into my private room, Miss Hooper ?" Mycroft's voice, usually very composed and neutral, was laced of amusement .

" It's Dr. Hooper to you, Mycroft..." the harsh tone of Molly's voice was sufficient for the older Holmes to understand, but seeing in the furthest corner of the room his brother's body curved by embarrassment and apprehension was the cherry on top of the cake .

" I've always believed that, if you decided to get rid of your  _burden_ , it would be Miss Adler's body the one you would have temporarily... _possessed_  . It appears I was wrong..." this time Mycroft didn't waste energy to hide the smirk on his lips,and appreciated the blush spreading on his brother's face ( or was it better to say that it was Miss Hooper the one embarrassed ?).

" We have no time to waste with your jokes, Mycroft...just tell me how to reverse this unfortunate...accident "

Mycroft deliberately ignored his brother's request ." Have you told our dear Molly about our family curse, Sherlock ?"

" Y-yes, he told me " This time the pathologist anticipated the consulting detective, and Mycroft found himself surprised at hearing Sherlock's voice stuttering - it seemed the shy doctor couldn't stop with her stammering even when  _"wearing"_  his sibling's body .

" Really ? Did you tell her all of it, Sherlock ?" . Mycroft saw the pathologist's face grimacing, but it was all over in a second. " Mycroft, if you don't tell me this instant, I will..."

" No need to threaten me, little brother...it's quite simple, really . To reverse the process, you just have to...repeat the act that lead you to this...inconvenience. In other words, you two have to-"

" No need to continue, Mycroft - we have to go now, Molly ". Both of them were on the threshold, the tiny pathologist dragging the tall detective with him in haste, when Mycroft's voice reached them again .

" It's quite bizarre...I would always thought that it would be Miss Hooper the one eager to have intercourse with you, instead you're the one with an unusual spring in his step, Sherlock..."

" It's Dr. Hooper to you, Mycroft !" This time they both exclaimed in unison, before leaving the room and slamming the door .

* * *

From the moment they hailed a cab to the one when the car stopped, Molly and Sherlock remained silent and still, not uttering a word. Well, Molly heard her own voice barking their destination to the driver, but it was only when the cabbie announced cheerfully " Here we are !", that she noticed that they were outside Baker Street .

" But..." . She found her own eyes glaring at her and quickly fell silent. Still quiet, she followed him inside and removed the Belstaff when Sherlock gestured for her to sit down on the sofa . She watched her own body settling down on his armchair, and a frustrated grunt escaped from his/her lips . Molly ruffled nervously the curls that were not hers, and took a moment to savour the feeling. She was touching Sherlock's hair, she could appreciate how thick and soft they were, but it felt wrong . One of her fantasies became reality, but it was like a twisted dream. They had sex, but she couldn't remember it : and now, they had to "repeat the act", as Mycroft said, but she couldn't truly enjoy it because of this perverse trick. How was she supposed to have sex with him, with their bodies swapped like that ? She was so lost in her thoughts, that she didn't notice Sherlock stood up and too a sit besides her.

"Would you like a cup of tea ?"

"Y-yes, thank you...or maybe, a glass of wine would be better "

Molly watched again Sherlock reaching the fridge with a grace that she was sure her body couldn't master,when she was the one owning it, and extracting a fancy looking bottle . " Seems John left here a bottle of champagne...is it good for you ?"

She simply nodded and waited for him to return, two glasses and the bottle in his hands . He put them down on the coffee table and quickly opened the bottle,careful to not let the cork pop, then he filled the glasses and offered her one of them. For a moment she thought he was thinking of making a toast, but he started to sip the liquid slowly, while she gulped it down in a sip . She saw her smirking when she eagerly reached for the bottle and refilled her glass.

It was only after the third glass that Molly found the courage to speak . " I think it's time to...you know ?! Let's do it and it will be all over, won't it ? It's not that strange, having sex with yourself, isn't it?" she said, giggling at her own joke, and at the sound of Sherlock's voice giggling.

"Molly,what have I told you about jokes ?"

" It's just that- That I can't, Sherlock ! I open my mouth, and I hear your voice - I know that it's you that I have in front of me, but all I can see is myself. It's...surreal, and disturbing, and I'm sorry, but I don't think I can-"

The sudden feeling of lips on her/his mouth silenced her instantly. She let out a content sigh, lost in the sensation, before snapping out of it and distancing herself from him/her.

" Why ? How could you be-?"

" What ? Kissing you ? Kissing reduces anxiety, Molly- it increases the levels of oxytocin,and the hormone helps producing a feeling of peace and calmness...you should know it, you're a doctor after all..."

" Of course I know it, but that's not the point, you can't go around and snog me without-". Another kiss stopped her, and this time Sherlock didn't let her interrupt him." Just close your eyes, Molly" he ordered, and she obeyed. Between a series of soft pecks, he made her lie down on the sofa, and slowly started to undress both of them. When they were both completely naked, he sighed and gave her a final soothing kiss. Molly was a lttle calmer, but then she felt a hand on the "appendage" (  _It's called a penis, Molly_  ! _You're surely familiar with the concept and mechanics of sex, stop fretting!_  her inner voice chastised her again ), and a gasp escaped her . Was it strange being turned on by the tone of Sherlock's voice moaning, when said voice was escaping from her mouth ? Surely it couldn't be stranger than the sensation given by the fact that Sherlock was lowering her/his body, and now... _Oh my God, this is beyond bizarre,he's...or is it more correct to say that I'm the one inside ? Oh, Molly, why dothings like this always happen to you ? He's moving now...and I'm feeling...good, and warm...so this is what happens inside a man when-?_ "

She was coaxed out of her inner turmoil by a voice, Sherlock's deep voice. " You can open your eyes now, Molly"

She did as instructed, and the first thing she noticed was that her perspective was changed; she saw a very male body between her thighs, and finally she noticed that she had not talked, and so it must be the man under her the one speaking...

" We...we did it ! Oh goodness, my boobs are back ! We're back !" she laughed and bounced over him, before letting a out a surprised gasp, mimicked by Sherlock.

" You...you are still...oh my God, sorry !". Molly blushed vividly, she could feel the blood rushing to her face, and started to move to let him... _slip out_ , when his hand closed swiftly around one of her wrist, effectively yanking her back and letting her fully experience how... _full_  she was.

" Don't you dare..." he growled, and Molly fixed her gaze on his eyes, fully dilated and almost animalistic .

" Don't you want us to stop ?"

" Why ?"

His question unsettled her. Yes, why ? She was having Sherlock Holmes exactly where she had dreamed him to be, and she was still being mousy and shy. It was only out of routine that she let her responsible part of her brain answer him. " Because now we are back in our bodies, there's no need to-"

He rolled them so quickly, that she lost her breath for a second, before her head touched the sofa. It astonished her that he had managed to position them still on the sofa, without falling on the floor. Sherlock towered over her, his hands on both sides of her head, trapping her- not that she wanted to escape. He had succeeded into remaining inside her, and started to move slowly. She saw how concentrated he was, trying to catalogue every moan, every sigh, every caress. Suddenly he pressed his lips against hers, and nibbled at her bottom lip, before forcing her mouth open with the tip of his tongue. He tasted teh champagne in her mouth, before descending on her neck, his soft lips taking her pulse. At the same time, Molly felt his long, musician fingers slipping under her, trailing across her spine. She shivered, and involuntarily bucked against him. Oh, the glorious sensations she was feeling in that moment...it was pure heaven.

" You were a virgin a day ago...how could you be so good ?"she murmured, surprised that she was still able to think, and speak.

" I'm a fast learner..." Sherlock smirked, before deciding to pick up his tempo, his hips snapping faster against her. He raised a hand, and let his thumb touch lightly her eyebrows, her cheekbone, her pointy nose, before resting upon her opened mouth. She surprised him taking his finger between her teeth, licking it and learning every ridge of his fingertip,before firmly sucking it. He gasped, and thrust deeper inside her, his eyes closed. Molly freed his thumb with a pop, and the consulting detective proceeded to trail it on her breast, caressing her erect nipples, then down on her stomach, drawing unknown figures around her belly button, until he finally reached her clit. Sherlock flicked gently his still wet finger against the tight bud, once, twice, agonizingly slow, than he lowered his mouth against her ear and breathed " Come, Molly". The whisper triggered her orgasm, and she lost herself, her inner walls tightening against his cock, milking his own climax.

Sherlock fell exhausted upon her, not bothering about his weight on her tiny frame, and let his lips caress her forehead, before kissing her sloppily on the mouth. Molly sighed, all-content, and run her fingers through his wild hair. They remained silent, their breathing returning more controlled, happy to simply savouring the moment.

It was Molly's voice the one breaking the quiet." Sherlock...your brother said-"

" Do you really want to talk about Mycroft,  _now_  ?!" he asked, incredulous.

" It's jus that he said something about the curse...we are back, alright, but he hinted at something else..."

Sherlock buried his face on her shoulders, and hummed." Nothing important, now let me rest before the encore..."

" What are you hiding from me, Sherlock ?!"

He raised his head, his curls bouncing. " It's nothing important...it's just that now, we are basically bonded"

"Like...like we are soulmates, or something like that ?"

" Yes, something like that...and I've probably already impregnated you" he added with a boyish smile.

_" What ?!"_

**Here it is...hope you liked it, the first part of their intercourse was a nightmare to write...Let me know what you think!**


End file.
